


Before the Sun Rises

by HeroInTraining



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroInTraining/pseuds/HeroInTraining
Summary: James isn't an early riser, except when he is.





	Before the Sun Rises

**Author's Note:**

> Hey sweet-ree, here's your gift for the Mass Effect Holiday Cheer! I know this was posted on the deadline, and for that I'm sorry. College is crazy. Hope you enjoy!

"I thought I smelled something burning." His voice entered the little kitchenette before his body. That was natural; Commander Shepard seemed out of place everywhere except a battlefield. Every part of him was large, larger-than-life. His body, from years of being the model of N7s. His power, honed from more tragedy than the average lifespan. His personality, larger than all the rest. Commander Shepard in a nutshell: awake in the wrong sleep cycle, walking around sans uniform, poking fun at the one man on the Normandy who could genuinely cook. That nutshell shrank every day, but by God, if the opportunity arose to do something like this, he would take it. 

James had been completely engrossed in the complicated task of frying pancakes. This was the first human spaceship he'd served on with actual ingredients to make actual food. Serving under Commander Shepard certainly had its benefits. Benefits only the ground crew seemed to take advantage of. Nothing was, in fact, burning. So the comment caused about three seconds of panic, a few more of realizing everything was fine, and figuring out it was only Shepard. He shimmied the still semi-molten batter one final time before shifting his gaze. 

Shepard had strolled to the counter and leaned casually against it. The sight was so normal for the man but so not for the position he held. Shepard without uniform was a casual, happy man always subverting the stereotypes and expectations of such. Witnessing James' panic brought a slight grin to his face. "You know it's only me, amigo. I thought this wasn't your early shift?" 

"Yep." 

And from that one word Shepard figured out what was going on. Months had passed since the Reapers struck Earth. Between then and now everything turned upside down. Planets were lost. People died. Wars surrendered. Family members dropped off the radar, only rarely being listed on KIA lists. Stress and anxiety wreaked more havoc than bullets. Members of the Normandy were no exception. If anything, they had it worse: always on the move, frequently without comm signals, nary a moment to sit down and think. Several crewmembers already jumped ship to spend their final days with their families. Shepard thought no less of them. If he had family to return to he would in a heartbeat. And there laid the problem. His only family resided on his ship. The others weren't so lucky. James had people stuck burning on Earth. Between fighting and traveling and always having something better to do and the mental tolls of living in constant battle the poor man was near his wit's end. Like the rest of the crew, if fighting the Reapers went on much longer, the galaxy's best defense would start to crumble. Of course they wouldn't give up. That much was expected. But each day would get harder and harder until one morning the sun never rose. Shepard felt that in his bones. 

In response he slowly coaxed the pan from the other man's grasp. James looked up, confused. "Sit your ass down, lieutenant," Shepard said, making the order sound like a friendly suggestion. He was good at that. "Take five. I'll handle breakfast from here." 

James sat. Kaidan and Liara said this used to happen all the time back in the good ol' days, the easier times on the SR1. When Saren and the geth were everyone's biggest problem. Back when the original six were tasked with the almighty feat of saving the galaxy. Back when he was a fresh-faced Marine responsible for his own quest to save his life. He watched Shepard finish the meal. He hummed as he worked, seemingly oblivious to what both preceded and followed that morning. Nobody had recovered fully from the past few missions. Despite how long the current war had been waging, some things never became fully normalized. Like this, for example. 

"I know you think I should've brought you along on that Cerberus mission." 

"You brought me along on all the others. I have experience." 

"That's why. You need to rest. Tali and Kaidan had their breaks. Like every mission that's been assigned since this goddamn war started I need everyone at their best." 

Two perfectly formed pancakes slid onto a plate, a cup of coffee following. Shepard sat across with nothing but his own mug of steaming black coffee. No words filled the silence, nothing but an occasional clank from the med bay or battery. Then a brief discussion about how hard Garrus got hit the last time he went groundside and who had comparable skills to replace his presence for the next few days. Then a question about the next mission, what it might hold and how long it would take to reach the dropzone. 

"Don't worry," Shepard reassured James. "It won't take long and I'm sure everything will work out in the end. We'll finish the Crucible. We'll be in and out of Thessia without a hitch."


End file.
